What’s in a Name?
Being forced by prison authorities to publish anonymously caused me to reflect on the long history of Black authors choosing names in response to state violence.
75 posts in ‘incarcerated and formerly incarcerated authors’
Being forced by prison authorities to publish anonymously caused me to reflect on the long history of Black authors choosing names in response to state violence.
I had one / wish it will be I wish I can / get out of this cuz this is / a suffering pain time I’m doing
“Shower Call Down Below” & “29 L-Building”
I’m eligible to smoke til I fall clapping my / Hands and feet all the same time / Laffing at all this shit.
Work from poets incarcerated in Parchman’s Unit 29
“Crying Johnny,” “Officer Judy Gives Instructions to the Lock Down Inmates,” & “Holiday Special Meal”
I rejected a plea deal and chose instead to go to trial. I would not understand until too late that I had placed a target on my back.
This year I passed a grim milestone: I’ve now been in captivity longer than I’d been alive when I was arrested.
There are no good prisons—but even minor design changes could make them less awful to be trapped inside.
California is discovering the hard way that you can’t leave decarceral reforms in the hands of prison officials.
Abolition requires the world-building work of imagining all the many life-affirming alternatives to incarceration.
Ending prison slavery and giving fair wages to incarcerated workers are necessary steps on the pathway to justice.
I kept my promise to break bread with my friend Dobie one last time, right before the state of Louisiana put him to death.
Most reentry programs assume a person who is able to work and live on their own. Those of us who are older don’t have that kind of freedom.
Prison transfers are routinely used to punish, disorient, and isolate incarcerated people, disconnecting them from family, friends, community, and all sense of place.
Electing progressive prosecutors is but one tool in a multifaceted, collaborative approach to ending mass incarceration.
A new book uses art to make the horrors of mass incarceration as visual, and visceral, as possible.
Mass incarceration rests on false narratives that carceral institutions themselves control. But some of us are fighting back.
While on parole in Oregon, homelessness, unemployment, and lack of services kept me in survival mode. This is not public safety.
“I applaud, your / Frankenstein’s monster, forevermore.”
In New York and elsewhere, exploitative court-ordered fees shouldn't saddle a person who is already poor and criminalized.
“What does it mean to be an / incarcerated poet?”
I spit bars on Death Row to preserve the legacy of our people, what’s been done to us, and how we’ve fought back.
“The cotton field / is replaced by walls of steel . . . ”
Poetry can help incarcerated authors to reclaim the story of their life.
“Paralyzed in shock / by slave raid tactics, / my trembling hands on the wall . . .”
Prison is no place for grief and closure. Yet even as I mourned, glimmers of love and life surrounded me.
For incarcerated people, prison education programs can offer not only knowledge but also hope that a different future is possible.
There's no aging with dignity for people serving extreme sentences. Freeing them is only a start to a deeper paradigm shift.
Policing on college campuses falls hardest on formerly incarcerated students, leaving them and the broader community unprotected.